The Underdrill Project
by Mr. Shadows
Summary: The Doctor takes Clara to Earth's most evolutionary era. Here they discover a great flaw in the plan - one which the Government is trying to keep covered up. In the wrong hands the secret can change the course of history forever. Aided by optimistic father Hallath, will they be able to uncover the truth before their time runs out? And can they survive The Underdrill Project?
1. Prologue

The Underdrill Project

Prologue

'Ha-ha!' the Doctor exclaimed, pushing Clara out of the TARDIS.

'So what is it?' asked Clara. They were in a long, thin, round, white tunnel which reminded Clara of the London Undeground. The walls were smeared with dirt and grime and dust, even blood spattered here and there. It was like she was catching the train home from University, just like how she used to with Allana. Which made her wonder. How is Allana now?

'The Underdrill Project. Human life deep in the pits of the planet. When pollution became too much the Earth sought refuge underneath land until they find a way to restore civilisation back where they started. However you struggled to find resources without the benefits land gave you, all the way up for another five centuries. You failed to prosper for hundreds of years, until a Professor Yaoi invented the Relecule Transmitter. Excellent man, excellent.'

'We lived in this? For five hundred years?! You're pulling my leg.'

'Yes. No. I don't know! What? Of course, the Madagascans and such disagreed with the idea and proclaimed that the Lord shall protect them, but you can imagine the results that will cause them.'

Clara laughed nervously. 'What year is this?'

'9078. You've just fought in a long waging war against the Geraggelems for the past twenty-eight years until they released a missile which triggered Earth's radioactivity to work its way up to the ground.'

'Wow. That's just mad. So you mention Professor Yaoi - will we be meeting him? And what's this Relecule Transmitter?'

'We won't be meeting Yaoi unfortunately. His Transmitter helped the world develop buildings and slowly bring them up to surface. But we're somewhere way cooler.'

'What might that be?' said Clara, intrigued.

'We've landed in the first three weeks of the Underdrill Project. This is when the fun starts - humanity is just settling in to the environment. And they're just going to keep on changing and swapping habitats for a long time yet.'

Somewhere from behind the walls, a long, thundering rumble crackled around them as the Doctor and Clara struggled to keep themselves on both feet.

'And something comes to disturb them...?' Clara grinned. '...Something like that?'

The Doctor, grinning too, winked at her, and then set off sprinting down the glowing tunnel. It looked more like a large Kloranian Starship, or a Jagnol Space Station. 'Exactly!'

Clara followed close behind, making sure to keep the Time Lord's tail. There was something off about this place - something not quite right. And no matter what it took, she was _determined_ to find out what it is.

But that didn't stop her from enjoying herself.


	2. Chapter One

Doctor Who - The Underdrill Project

Chapter One

'There are stories of a man,' Hallath sighed, whispering into his son's ear. He was drifting to sleep slowly, half listening and half dreaming. 'A man who shall come to save us all, aided by a young, beautiful woman.'

The child stirred. 'Like Mummy?' he mumbled.

Hallath laughed. 'Yes, son. Like Mummy. And they will stop this madness, the man and his friend.'

'Those stories are silly.'

'Maybe they are,' he agreed, 'but it's the best hope we have got. And when that man comes, I shall put all of my faith into him, for he will restore humanity. But for now... for now, we wait.'

He turned around. The four-coming-up-five-year-old in his arms was asleep. Hallath laid his son down on to a pillow and spread the blanket out to cover his body.

Athan looked so angelic when asleep.

And, if the Healer was not to appear soon, he would sleep for the rest of eternity.

Hallath looked up at the heavens. He balled his hands and closed his eyes, muttering an old hymn his mother used to sing to him. Before the tears forming in his eyes could start rolling down his cheeks, he wiped them away with his index finger and batted his eyelids, getting rid of them so that they would not be visible to Eleanor when he left the room.

He yawned and got to his feet. Bending over his sleeping son, Athan, he kissed him gently on the forehead.

Athan stirred and turned on to his other side.

His father creeped out of the bedroom and closed the door silently behind him.

'How is he?' asked Hallath's wife Eleanor.

'Sleeping.' Hallath replied.

'Good.'

There was a silence between the two as Hallath moved past her to make his way down the metal stairs. They made so much noise it was unbelievable. Everything had changed since they begun that "Underground Experiment" or whatever the heck it was called.

To be perfectly honest, Hallath could not care less.

Eleanor cleared her throat. 'Did you tell him a story?'

Hallath stopped in his tracks halfway down the stairs. Not in shame, oh no. He did not care if Eleanor had no faith in the Healer (that's what they called him anyway, the man who would come to save them all) and the Immortal One (whatever that meant). He believed in them, and that was all that mattered.

'I told him about the Healer.' Hallath said, turning around.

Eleanor buried her face in her hands.

'Hallath -' she began.

'Listen, I know he's out there. Someone, somewhere, will give us all hope!'

'It's just a fairy tale,' she whispered gently.

'No.' he was determined. There were not many times Hallath knew he was right, but now was one of them. The Healer was real. He was among them, right at that moment. He _had_ to be. 'It's true.'

'Hallath, please!'

Hallath turned his back to her and continued down the stairs.

Eleanor followed close behind.

'There is nothing wrong with the Underdrill Project. It's a trustworthy resource, it will save us from the apocalypse!'

'Don't you see Eleanor?' Hallath was raising his voice now. 'There is no apocalypse! There's nothing wrong with the environment up there-' he gestured toward the ceiling, but of course land was far further up '- I know that! The Government, they released this gas thing that made the Earth look polluted and then suddenly usher us all into the ground as if we've known about it for years? There's something behind it, they're scheming something. Those drills they took us into had been there for years, no-one knew about them but _them_, and now we just have to trust them! But the Healer will sort it out, he'll save us all. I know he will. If there's going to be any apocalypse, Eleanor, it'll be down here.'

Hallath rushed down the last three steps and grabbed his coat, unlocking the door.

'What are you doing?' asked Eleanor.

'I'm going for a walk, if that's all right with you.' he murmured in response.

'There's nothing out there apart from tunnels and thugs! They'll walk all over you!' she exclaimed.

This threat didn't seem to stop her husband from storming off. Hallath tutted and slammed the door behind him. The whole house shook and Eleanor slumped down on the second step, holding up her head in her hands, fighting back the tears.

At that moment, she heard Athan crying from upstairs. The door had woken him up. No - correction: _Hallath _had woken him up.

Eleanor sighed, shook her head, and trudged upstairs, mind racing.

If the Healer is real, why can't he just make this all end?

She entered her son's bedroom.

'Is the Healer here yet?' he sniffed.

Eleanor let a tear escape her eye, and trickle down her cheek as she felt her body become numb with hopelessness.


	3. Chapter Two

**Author's Note: Sorry about the short chapter and the very long wait for it. I am ashamed... But a lot of things have happened recently and May really is ****_not_**** my month!**

**Thank you all for reading, I really hope you enjoy. And if you do, PLEASE LEAVE ME A REVIEW! :D**

Chapter Two

'Where are we actually going?' asked Clara. She and the Doctor had given up running after so long. Everywhere was tunnels.  
Every so often you'd reach a lift, or sliding doors, or "those spiral-y ones that twist as they open" as the Doctor referred to them as.  
'Erm... I don't know.' the Doctor admitted. Which was a bit of a surprise, as normally it would have been 'Follow me, I know where I'm going,' or 'Trust me, I'm the Doctor'. She loved that phrase. It suited him so much. And the Doctor always said it with so much hope, so much belief. But behind the eyes she could see sadness, sorrow, grief. Clara hoped, in a way, that she would never find out why. Sometimes, it was better not knowing. Because you never know what you're going to get.  
'Well that's reassuring,' Clara mumbled.  
The Doctor licked his lips and whipped the sonic screwdriver out of his overcoat pocket.  
'What is it with the Victorian clothes?' asked Clara as the Doctor waved the sonic around, emitting a green light, sonic waves and a gentle buzzing.  
'Victorians are cool!'  
'Victorians are not cool.' Clara had made that fact known many times before.  
'You're all the same. It was like this with the bow ties. And the fez. And the stetson. And that funny clown hat I found in the TARDIS basement. Trust me, this Victorian get up is my most normal yet. In this incarnation, anyway.'  
'Normal? You? Pah!'  
'Says the one who also wore Victorian clothing all their life.' The Doctor retorted.  
'And when was this, exactly?'  
'Ah. It's a long story.'  
'A long story that I want to hear, so spill!'  
The Doctor was about to splutter something incredibly off-topic, when the sound of somebody walking up from behind them made them freeze.  
As if to make himself look heroic, the Doctor spun around on his heel and pointed his sonic screwdriver at the ... innocent young man?  
'Don't shoot,' the man raised his hands above his head, in an attempt to protect himself.  
Clara stepped closer to the startled Doctor, put her hand on his shoulder and said, 'Put it down.'  
'Sorry,' said the Doctor. 'Won't hurt you really.' He tapped the screwdriver. 'Just a bluff. Well, it would have been a bluff. If you were a baddie. Which I thought you were. Ahem.' he cleared his throat.  
'We do seem to get a lot of them, though,' said Clara.  
'Yes, we do. Natural reaction, clearly.'  
The man stood in silence, still terrified for his life. Maybe he should have stuck to what his wife had said and stayed inside. Nutters, everywhere.  
'I think he's in a state of shock,' whispered the Doctor to Clara, floppy-limbed.  
'What do we do?' she whispered back.  
'I don't know...'  
The man slowly lowered his hands. 'Who are you?'  
'Travellers.' The Doctor answered quickly, jabbing his finger into the air for a reason not only unbeknownst to the others, but to he himself as well.  
'Travellers? Y'don't get many travellers anymore. Not after Underdrill started out...' He pursed his lips. 'What are your names?'  
'I'm the Clara, and this is the Doctor,' answered Clara before the Doctor could put in.  
'I'm Hallath.'  
'Nice to meet you, Hallath.' the Doctor took two big steps closer and shook his hand thoroughly. 'You seem distraught. You're living in the most extraordinary age the Earth has ever seen... What's the matter?'  
Hallath sighed. 'Lots of things, Doctor. It's like we're all kept in the dark.'  
'Well you would be, had they not installed these lights,' Clara looked up at the ceiling and covered her eyes with her arm to stop her from being blinded by the brightness of the lights above them.  
'No - I mean... The Undergoverners. They know things... more than we do. And we're not allowed to know what they are. Wait; why am I telling you all this? You threatened to kill me!'  
'It was a bluff, a friendly one, too. Friendly. Very... very friendly,' the Doctor lied. 'So tell me more about the Undergoverners.'  
'I thought you'd know? Seeing as, you know... you live here. With the rest of us.'  
'Ah, being travellers you don't really get to catch up on all the news and gossip,' Clara shot the Doctor a look, and mouthed something along the lines of "I missed EastEnders last night for a fleet of angry Sontarans".  
Hallath bowed his head. He took Clara's hand and his arm around the Doctor's waist. The Doctor was a fair height taller than him.  
'Come with me and we'll talk over tea.' he said.  
'Ooh, do you have any Jammy Dodgers?' the Doctor asked.  
'Excuse me?' replied Hallath.  
The Doctor died inside. 'They... stopped selling Jammy Dodgers?!' He shook his head. _'I have lost all faith in this planet!'_  
Clara awkwardly shuffled toward Hallath's ear and said, 'He's always been like this... try not to take offense.'  
They both laughed. The Doctor joined in too.  
'What are we laughing about?' he chuckled.

...They walked the rest of the way in a deadly silence.


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Prime Minister Martinez-Thompson sipped slowly on his piping hot coffee.  
Things were much easier ever since he installed that coffee machine in his office. He did not even have to leave the room to fetch himself a brew nowadays. Not that he didn't like Mrs Woods or her hot drinks, but she could keep you chatting for a long time. And it wasn't her fault, of course. She was constantly cooking for the two-hundred people in Section Five of Base 2.0, and had nothing better to do. He had overheard a rumour once - one that the Governors had surely started, possibly to keep themselves entertained - that she lost her husband to the Geraggelems in the first year of the war, back in 9050. That may well have been true though, he supposed. She was a lonely old lady. But he wouldn't miss having 40-minute chats with her so that his coffee goes cold.  
He'd have to work a way around going to her for lunch, too...  
Most of the office was metal. Almost everything was since Underdrill took place.  
He completely disagreed with the idea, but because he was only Prime Minister of Section Five, he had no real say in the affairs of the Government; his governors were the lowest type one could get.  
And not for the first time today, he lowered his beverage, and sighed. There wasn't even any paperwork to keep him occupied.  
Slowly, exhausted, the 46-year-old ex-soldier/ex-governor got to his feet and walked over to a picture of his son on the windowsill. They had insisted on installing windows with a holographic background, to "add that extra home-y feel".  
It didn't work.  
The grass 'outside' looked like it could have been drawn by a five-year-old, that clouds were bubbles of what looked like white crayon, the trees long brown sticks with a green bush plastered to the top and the sky was a sea of inartistic mess.  
Martinez-Thompson felt what might have been a million long tears trickle down his cheek as he held the picture of his late son close to his chest, quarter out of anger at the Project, and three-quarters at the empty hole his son had left in his heart. Nobody had ever been able to fill his place... not even Julia.  
Oh, Julia. His wonderful, beautiful Julia. Left him for a young Undergoverner with more money, more "successful" than he was.  
The middle aged man was balling with tears by this point, and as he decided it was time to stop, a klaxon alarm sounded and the entire room lit a ghostly red.  
Unlike his usual self, Martinez-Thompson did not know what to do. Too many thoughts had filled his mind at once, and he decided that if somebody had broken in, let the soldiers deal with the issue.  
And if he was under threat, then so be it. It was not like he had anything else to live for anymore.  
At that moment, a young man in Ancient Victorian clothing crept into the room, slowly pushing the door shut with a resounding 'click'.  
The Prime Minister of Section Five, Base 2.0 pulled a shining black revolver from his pocket and aimed it at the trespasser.  
The young man immediately shot his hands up. The Prime Minister examined him quickly - neat waistcoat, smoothened shirt, and a short, floppy back-and-purple bow tie.  
'Sorry!' the Doctor exclaimed. 'My friend and I popped in to have a chat Prime Minister Martinez-Thompson?'  
The Prime Minister grunted, 'Speaking.'  
'Ah! Good! Lovely!'  
'Where's your friend?'  
'Oh yes, where has she got to?'  
He creaked open the door and poked his head out. 'No sign of her. Ah, she'll find her way, she always does. So, Mr M-T! 'Sup?'  
'Excuse me?' Martinez-Thompson said, confused.  
'Ooh...' the Doctor made his way forward, ignoring the Prime Minister, to the collection of pictures, awards, medals, badges, certificates, etcetera, which were all stored away safely in cabinets. 'Now aren't these pretty.'  
'Back away from them!' the Prime Minister said.  
The Doctor saw a quick movement the Prime Minister made toward his trouser pocket.  
'What was that?' he asked, suspicious.  
'Nothing- it was- I-'  
By this point the Doctor had dived into the man's pocket and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper with a picture of a young man and the Prime Minister. The schoolboy in the picture must have been around the age 15 and looked like Martinez-Thompson himself. He read slanted message written in black ink next to it.  
_"R.I.P Joseph... You will for ever be in our hearts"_  
'I'm sorry...' the Doctor apologised, handing the piece of paper back with an ashamed, guilty expression.  
The klaxon was still blaring. The Prime Minister made a move onto his desktop computer and let the sirens shut down, the lights changing colour back to normal.  
The Prime Ministers eyes had drooped suddenly. The great long scar down the side of his forehead to the bottom of his cheek stood out in the light of the holographic window.  
'Who are you?' he asked. Not angrily, as the Doctor expected him to - as he most likely _should_ have done - but calmly, and quietly.  
'My name is the Doctor. I'm an inspector under the service of His Royal Highness the Emperor. Pretend I'm... new here. I have no idea about the Undergovernment's plans and I'm an outsider. I intend to know of everything, _anything_ that has happened or will happen at some point in the future.' The Doctor smiled.  
After drawing a long, deep breath, Prime Minister Martinez-Thompson sighed and said, 'Take a seat.'  
The Doctor drew out a chair from underneath the other side of the Prime Minister's desk, and the Prime Minister sat down shortly after.  
The Doctor's facial structure was deadly serious. 'Tell me what I need to know.'

'Gerroff me!' Clara screamed as a bulky soldier held her over his right shoulder. _'Get off!'_  
The soldier threw her down roughly onto the floor of a small room.  
'You wait till the Doctor hears about this! Just you wait!'  
With a sly grin which mangled his distorted face ever further, the soldier pulled the metal bar door closed and locked it with a turn of a key which he slid back into his back pocket.  
As far as she could see, there was no way out! No way of getting to the Doctor or contacting him...  
How did he manage to lose her anyway? God that man runs fast!  
'ARGH!' Clara screamed behind the soldier as, with a smirk, he turned a corner and left her alone to vent her anger on a wall, which she eventually slumped down onto and, head in hands, sighed.


End file.
